In his hospitality the Caucasian vies with the Arab of the desert. A house, or at least an apartment is kept ready by every man of substance for the reception of strangers, its door never being closed by day, and a pile of logs always blazing on the hearth in winter evenings. The guest of distinction on arriving is assisted to alight by his host, who says to him on crossing the threshold, "Henceforth consider my father as thy father and my mother as thy mother." He then with his own hands relieves the stranger of his arms and hangs them on the wall. As sung the ancient Grecian bard-- And now with friendly force his hand he grasped, Then led him in within his palace halls; His coat of mail and glittering helm unclasped, And hung the splendid armor on the walls; For there Ulysses' arms, neglected, dim, Are left, nor more the conqueror's crown will win. Only after repeated solicitations on the part of the guest, and when all others present have taken their seats, will the host consent to sit down himself; and even then he will crouch down at a respectful distance on the floor. After the repast, served perhaps by the sons of the house, water is brought in by maid-servants, that the guest may wash his hands while they carefully do the same office for his feet. In a corner of the room, or by the side of the hearth in winter, is spread a silken couch, with a luxurious pile of cushions and coverlets brought from Turkey or Persia; while sometimes a member of the family sleeps on guard by the door way. Departing, the distinguished guest is accompanied out of the aoul by a gallant array of horsemen singing in full chorus their war songs; with perhaps a wandering minstrel to chant the praises of some hero; and it may be an astrologer or soothsayer to predict a happy termination to the journey of the guest they speed on his way. With equal comfort, if with less ceremony, is entertained the humbler traveller, who is entitled to ask shoes for his feet and a coat to his back of any man who has a supply of these necessaries; while a party of warriors on their journey may demand no less freely a kid from the flock or an ox from the herd. For there are three virtues, says a Circassian proverb, either one of which entitles the possessor to celebrity--bravery, eloquence, or hospitality--more literally, a sharp sword, a sweet tongue, or forty tables.